The Return of the Leemur

Well for starters, congratulate me, I have a passel of new snails, courtesy of Gary and Neal. They are all damn cute. Pictures are forthcoming I can assure you, as soon as they're big enough to photograph.
Elsewhere---I dreamt last night that I was Rachel on Friends, that's right, Rachel, The Rachel, Rach. Anyway, as Rachel in this particular episode, I was dating Chris Rock, who portayed a black guy. He was very good in his role. We were a bit of an odd couple to be sure, but we were digging each others' company. I was wearing a charcoal grey strappy dress and Manolos, and he looked real cute in an oxford shirt under a red sweater that had two holes in the elbows the size of the circumference of the lid of your average cup of Dannon yogurt. We walked down a moonlit city street, me twirling my tiny, fashionable handbag, and he gesturing vivdly as he told me stories about his first job in a cardboard box factory. I felt as light as a feather and as frisky as a kitten. The next thing I knew we were in his pristine white 1983 Mustang that had the most incredible buttery soft leather seats the color of a melting caramel. Then we were racing thru the parking lot, swerving around the many elderly who were there for some reason, and then we ended up in the loading dock of the nation's largest post office. We went inside to look at the pictures of the last big office party and who should be sitting at the biggest desk but my dead grandmother.
Then I woke up.
A free pair of custom Leemur-made earrings to whomever can provide a satisfactory interpretation of my dream. For real.